


Only Come Undone

by Gileonnen



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Consensual Erotic Violence, Fightsex, M/M, Off-Brand Uses for Super Abilities, PWP, Rough Sex, Tender Bloodstained Kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:47:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22193548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gileonnen/pseuds/Gileonnen
Summary: "Make me," says Osiris, and Saint-14 does.
Relationships: Osiris/Saint-14 (Destiny)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 136





	Only Come Undone

Osiris sinks down slowly on Saint-14's cock, breath held against the first frisson of pain--then the broad, blunt head slips into him, and he feels as though some hidden catch has been released deep within his body. Every straining muscle eases; pleasure courses through him, hot and bright and urgent. He pulls Saint deeper with legs wrapped around his waist, hands lighting on his cheek, his chest, the back of his neck. His backside skims Saint's thighs, and still he aches for more.

Saint takes Osiris by the hand, clasping his palm to the warm curve of Saint's cheek. "You are okay?" he asks. His voice is soft and earnest. The rumble of his modulator is a gentle purr against Osiris's skin.

"I'm fine," Osiris answers. He draws in a long, shuddering breath. The frantic drumbeat of his pulse echoes in every bone and organ. "I ... forget, sometimes, how much of you there is."

At that, Saint laughs and rests their brows together. His nose grazes Osiris's, and Osiris can't resist pressing a kiss to his mouth. "All of it for you, my bird," Saint murmurs. "All of me for you."

And when he says that, Osiris wants _all_ of him--he wants the hero of Twilight Gap, the bane of the Vex and the Fallen; the builder of cities and breaker of foes. He wants Saint in all his might and glory, shedding Void in violet streamers.

He doesn't want to be fucked. He wants to be _vanquished._

When Saint rocks up against him, Osiris rises up on his knees in answer. He feels the slow, delicious pull on his flesh as Saint's cock slides out of him, the sharp stutter of Saint's hips, the heavy hand at his waist to urge Osiris back down. "Not so fast," Osiris chides, smirking.

"But perhaps a little faster--"

Osiris leans back, trailing his hands down the broad expanse of Saint's chest. The metal is hot beneath his fingertips. He can almost trace the flow of sensor impulses beneath his hands as polymers quiver and tense, as processors heat and vents flutter open. If he wanted to, he could tease Saint for hours at the very edge of orgasm, and Saint would beg him for release--but that isn't what he craves.

His eyes lock with Saint's, and he finds his own fierce mischief reflected back. "Make me," says Osiris.

Saint roars with delighted laughter even as his fist shatters Osiris's jaw.

Pain blossoms like the blast of a grenade, and Osiris thinks _yes,_ he thinks _this_ even as he smears blood away with the back of his hand. He twists free of the embrace and slams his bloody hand open-palmed against Saint's face, charging the strike with every ounce of Solar Light in his body; a corona of flames ignites the air, and Saint's laughter draws out into a howl of pain. "You'll pay for that, Osiris!" he shouts, and then he's leaping out of bed to drive Osiris against the wall with one titanic shoulder. Something cracks in Osiris's chest, but by then he's whirling free to drop a rift at his feet.

Light billows up from the ground in shining waves, surging through his blood and setting every nerve alight. He gathers up all that raw power into one clenched fist and delivers a burning uppercut that pulses with concentrated fire. The grenade explodes against Saint's gut; his vents jet smoke that reeks of coolant. But before Osiris can pull back, Saint catches his wrist and yanks him in.

The kiss smashes Osiris's lips against his teeth, but he doesn't care--it sends pain shrieking out from his broken jaw, but he doesn't _care_ ; he moans and opens wide to the press of Saint's mouth. He hooks one leg over the back of Saint's knee and ruts up against him, reveling in the residual heat of the grenade and the hard, slick length of Saint's cock against his stomach.

It's not enough. "Go on," snarls Osiris into the warm, blood-smeared hollow of Saint's mouth. He can taste the electric heat of him, and under that, the icy tang of the Void. "Make me pay."

"I will destroy you," says Saint, tender as a promise. Void Light flickers across his fingertips, warring with the heat in Osiris's hands and driving it back. Osiris grits his teeth and pours Solar energy into that point of contact, feet planted as he strains against Saint's grip, but still the Void roars through him in a torrent of darkness. In Saint's remorseless hands, Osiris falters. Sweat beads and freezes on his skin.

Saint seems to sense the moment when the Void saps Osiris's strength. He wrenches Osiris's arm up behind his back, twists it until his muscles stretch to their limits and his tendons nearly snap from strain. For a fraction of a second, Osiris sees the pivot point that he can use to break the hold--then Saint slams his head down, and the world shatters.

Osiris plunges out of blackness with his ears still ringing, stars streaming across his vision. A burning sword is in his one good hand, and he flings it against Saint with all the rage and desire in his broken body. The first blow strikes Saint hard aslant the chest, cracking open his chassis and pouring flame into the machinery beneath. Wires sunder and spark. The second blade tears into his shoulder and makes him drop Osiris with a yell.

The third blade glances off of the hard curve of a shield, and then that shield sends Osiris flying.

He lands hard on the bed, and Saint swarms over him. Sure hands seize him by the hips and hold him down as Saint plunges into him, one long sure stroke that makes Osiris cry out in pain and ecstasy. He clenches his thighs around Saint's hips, ankles crossed at the small of his back, and drives himself again and again onto Saint's length. Saint sets a brutal pace, taking him with quick, shallow thrusts that make every frayed nerve blaze white-hot.

Something else cracks in his chest under Saint's staggering weight--another rib, he thinks, but the sharp agony of it bleeds into the still keener pleasure. He knits his hands together at the back of Saint's neck and kisses him again, kisses him until he shudders apart on Saint's cock. With a mountain-shaking shout, Saint comes plummeting after.

For a long moment, they lie still wrapped around each other, breathing hard as the aftershocks dissipate. The sweetness fades slowly, melting like snow, leaving pain naked in its wake.

Saint bows his head, letting his face come to rest against Osiris's brow. "Good?" he asks, and nuzzles Osiris's cheek.

"Incredible," Osiris answers. He notices abstractedly that his voice is slurred from the broken jaw. He tucks his head against Saint's neck, kissing down every exposed tendon and effector. "You haven't lost your touch, my dear."

"I kept my arm strong in the Infinite Forest," laughs Saint. "But I hope you've learned to use a healing rift since last time we made love this way."

"It was never a matter of not _knowing_ ," Osiris says coolly. "I simply didn't see the utility in it."

"Your Well of Radiance looked like a little butterknife."

"I can leave you like this, if you'd prefer."

Saint's fingers curl through Osiris's. He dips his head, pressing a gentle kiss to the tips of his fingers--and just like that, Osiris feels his protests die on his lips.

They lie together in the warm circle of the rift, trading kisses until metal fuses and bones knit.

**Author's Note:**

> The butterknife is [@verniciafordii's fault](https://twitter.com/verniciafordii/status/1211778444691787776).


End file.
